


Dead

by infinimato



Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, NCIS RPF
Genre: Gen, Yuletide, Yuletide 2011, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-27 23:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinimato/pseuds/infinimato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"That's what he told me. He says he's dead."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JessBakesCakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessBakesCakes/gifts).



> Thanks to [wonderful beta person] for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

"What do you mean, _dead_?" she asked. "How can he be dead?"

"Don't ask me," Michael responded. "That's what he told me. He says he's dead."

"This has got to be another one of his pranks," Cote said, firmly. "And it's one in poor taste, too."

"I dunno," Michael said. "He really seems serious. You know how I can tell when he's lying. He's got that lying face. I think, at least, he believes it."

"So why did you leave him?" Cote asked.

"Had to borrow something from Carol."

Cote sighed, but followed Michael.

They went to a back corner of the stages where they did most of their filming in, a quiet corner where any of them often went to run lines or just have a peaceful moment. Mark sat at a table, wearing dress pants and a neatly pressed button-down white shirt, different from the usual "polyester Gibbs" outfits they put him in. He was leaning over, one hand to his face, and looking quite upset.

"You told her?" Mark asked Michael, as Cote sat down next to him, Michael sitting across from them.

"Yeah," Michael said, nodding. "She was looking for you, so..."

"Mark, you can't be dead. You look fine. Cut it out."

If anything, Mark looked more upset, almost as if he were going to start crying. That made Cote start; Mark might have been the biggest prankster, but he was also the calmest, most level-headed person of the cast -- hell, of the cast _and_ crew.

"What's really going on, Mark?" Cote asked. "Is it Pam? The kids?"

"No, no, the family is fine," Mark insisted. "I really think I'm dead."

"How-"

"Look," Mark said. "A couple of hours ago I woke up in a... in a box. A coffin. In a room full of them. The top was open, so I got out. There was nobody around, so I left. Couldn't find my wallet, or my keys, had to hail a cab. Hell, I had to get Chuck the PA to pay for the cab!"

"Sounds more like someone pulled a prank on _you_ ," Cote pointed out.

"That's why I borrowed this from Carol over in Makeup," Michael said, producing a small hand mirror. He held it up to Mark's face and said, "Breathe on this."

Mark took a deep breath and blew on the mirror. Nothing happened.

"What's that prove?" Cote asked.

"Living people's breath fogs up a mirror," Michael explained. "It's a classic way to check to see if someone is alive."

"You got a trick mirror," Cote accused.

"Fine!" Michael exclaimed. "Use your own mirror!"

Cote began digging in her purse. "Dammit, I must have left my compact at home! I can't find it!"

Just then, Scott, one of the directors, came over, muttering to himself while flipping through pages on a clipboard. He said, "Oh, Michael, here's where you-" and then caught sight of Mark. Scott's eyes went wide, he dropped the clipboard, yelled, "Holy shit!" and ran off.

If possible, Mark looked even sadder. "I guess the word is getting out," he said.

Cote had gone back to digging in her bag, and she pulled out her cellphone and flipped through the contacts. Before either of the men could stop her, she'd pressed send and the phone was answered on the other end. "Pam? Are you okay, you sound like you've been... Mark?" There was a pause, while they could hear almost incoherent babbling from the other end. "Are you sure?" Cote asked, face scrunched up in puzzlement. "Missing? But, Pam, he's right here."

Clearly from the phone's speaker came, "THAT'S NOT FUNNY!" and the sound of the call disconnecting.

Cote stared at the phone in disbelief. "Haven't either of you talked to her?"

"I tried," Mark said. "But she thought it was just Michael playing a prank."

"Yeah," Michael agreed. "And when I tried to talk to her she read me the riot act and then hung up on me, too."

They sat quietly for a moment, all lost in thought.

"I..." Mark looked almost shy. "I found out something else I can do."

"Like what?" Cote asked.

"I can breathe in fire." Mark said.

"You mean, breathe fire like a dragon?" Cote said.

"No, dragons breathe out fire. I can breathe it in. I can make a flame go away by sucking it into my mouth."

Cote just stared at him for a minute, then said, "You have got to be kidding me."

"No," Mark replied, hanging his head. "Michael, do you have a match?"

Michael stood up, digging through his pockets until he pulled out a book of matches. He lit one, and held it across the table towards Mark's face.

Mark's lips pursed and he sucked air in, hard. The flame bent towards his lips... and went out.

Cote's jaw hung open. She managed to say, "Do that again!"

Michael lit another match and reached across the table to Mark. Again, Mark's pursed lips gave a sharp inhale of air. The flame leaned towards him and went out.

"Crap," Chuck the PA said, heading towards them, " _There_ you are. Mark, you're needed in costuming, like, now."

"Oops," said Mark, jumping up from his chair.

"But what about-" Cote started to say, and realized Mark and Michael were grinning at her. "Oh, you're kidding. Not _again_ ," she groaned.

"You are such an easy target," Michael said, grin getting wider, as Mark started laughing.

"But, how did you keep the mirror from fogging?" Cote asked.

"Hairspray keeps glass from fogging up, it's an old trick," Michael told her. "Works on glasses and goggles, too. Oh!" he exclaimed, reaching into a pocket, "Here's your compact back."

"AUGH!" Cote cried. "But what about the match?"

Michael pulled out the book of matches again and lit one. As Mark sucked air in, Michael clearly blew air out at the match. "Classic misdirection," Mark explained. "You were so busy looking across the table at me you never noticed what Michael was doing right next to you."

"Okay, this is all fun, folks, but Mark needs to get moving." Chuck the PA reminded them.

As the guys walked off, Cote pulled her phone back out and dialed. "Pam?" she said after the call connected. "Yes, it's over. Why do you sound so stuffy? Oh, a cold." A pause. "Yes, I'm going to get back at them both. Want to help?"

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't write much RP, but I was reading "Dear Yuletide Writer" posts before falling asleep one night and woke up after dreaming the bulk of this. And couldn't stop giggling.
> 
> Clearly, I need professional help.
> 
> By the way, the match trick is fun. I once did it, with a friend, on his girlfriend. We had her going for over an hour before she figured it out.


End file.
